Self-Aggrandizement: marching along

These days, with nearly 40 gigs of music spinning inside my iPod, I listen most any time I hit the subways or streets. And, by and large, it's great. With sound-isolating high-fidelity buds in my ears, I barely hear the city grinding noisily away around me. With a click of 'shuffle songs', my entire CD collection pours seamlessly into my brain - from Aaron Copland to Zoot Sims, reminding me constantly of songs and bands I'd forgotten how much I love.

The problem is, from years of playing music, I can't help but move in time to the beat. A year back, enrolled with a friend in a ballroom dance class, I was constantly amazed by the number of people with no sense of time - couldn't they hear the music pulsing away? But, as iPodding goes, an overdeveloped feel for the rhythm is a bit of a disability - I can't not move in time to the song. So, as my listening shuffles from slow ballad to up-tempo rocker, my walking speed shifts way up and down - a problem today when, already running late for a morning production meeting, I hit a stretch of laid back Clem Snide, Nico, Iron & Wine and Love is Hell Ryan Adams.

Despite broadening my (in-time) stride, I still arrived late. But it won't happen again - just downloaded to the iPod is a 'running behind' playlist with enough Pixies, Donnas and Yeah Yeah Yeahs to have me fairly sprinting towards wherever I'm bound.

marching along Filed Wednesday, August 18 2004.

marching along
Filed Wednesday, August 18 2004.